


Surprise!

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Charlie [2]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Charlie is a good Samaritan again, F/M, Fluff, Help, Humour, Single Parents, Sobriety, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: After their (hazy) first and second meeting, Charlie visits the Hiddleston household with a surprise. (And checks on Tom in the process.)





	Surprise!

Tom heaves a sigh and runs his hand through his hair, which is sticking in all directions and has grown a little longish and wavy. He’s let his beard grow a little as well. Evie tells him he looks like a caveman, and he has absolutely no idea how his clever 4-year-old comes up with comments like that.

Well, at the moment she’s not being clever. She’s having one of her tantrum days when nothing he does or says is right and she lets him know every few minutes that he’s a poor substitute for Mummy.

It all started an hour ago when Evie refused to get up although she’s already slept until ten and Tom really needs her out of her room because he has to clean it.

It took some cajoling and bargaining and an impromptu story about ghost rats under her bed to make his daughter get up, and he’s already exhausted–and feeling rather too sober for his own liking.

Evie was cranky all through her morning wash, refused to put her clothes on without his help–when usually she insists she’s ‘a big girl’ and can do it alone–and then burst into tears when they found out they’re out of fruit loops for breakfast.

Tom pours some cocoa puffs into her bowl of milk and brings it to the kitchen table, praying he’ll live through this day without saying something to his grumpy little girl that he’ll regret later.

“Be a darling and eat, Evie,” he says, trying to find the right mix between stern and pleading. “You love cocoa puffs too. They’re your favourite, remember?”

“But not today,” she insists, her bottom lip wobbling. “I hate them today. I want fruit loops. And I want Mummy. She always buyed enough so they’re never  _ever_ finished.”

Well, fuck.

“I’m sorry, princess. We’ll go out together today and buy a whole cart full, okay? But only if you eat your breakfast like a good girl now.”

There’s a distandt ringing sound in his ears. Great, he’s going crazy. It’s finally too much to handle.

“Don’t wanna.” A heart-wracking sob makes him grimace.

Evie grabs the spoon and smashes it into the bowl, splattering cocoa-brownish milk and soggy cereal all over the table and Tom’s sweater. He’s pretty sure he’s got milk on his face too.

Gritting his teeth, he holds up a finger.

“Do you hear that bell? That’s your last warning. If you don’t behave, there’ll be consequences.”

Evie gives him her best defiant stare. “That’s the doorbell, silly.”

Shit. It is.

Trying to ignore the fact that his kitchen - his entire house really - looks like bomb has been dropped here, and also the fact that his daughter just called him ‘silly’, Tom turns.

They’ve got nothing planned for today, neither his mother nor Sarah or Emma announced themselves and the meeting with Luke is planned for tomorrow.

If it’s some sneaky paparazzo trying to be clever, he’s in for a surprise. That’s a line that won’t be crossed.

Tom also hates to admit that he’s rather glad to leave Evie in the kitchen for a minute. Before he can ponder over that and even reach the front door though, the little devil named Evie runs past him.

“Oh no, you don’t!” he shouts after her, scooping her up and under his arm on his way. “Don’t you dare open the front door on your own, do you hear me, little one?”

“I don’t listen, I don’t care, I still don’t like you. At all.”

Well, that’s not new, Tom thinks to himself, and opens the door, the squirming child under his arm.

Then he stops.

“Doctor Charlie!” Evie shouts, wriggling to be let down.

“Doctor…Charlie,” Tom croaks, not sounding like his 36 years at all but more like a boyish version of him, hitting puberty.

He almost lets go of Evie, staring into the green eyes that have last seen him when he was a drunk idiot.

He should also close his mouth. Oh fuck.

* * *

She should have thought this through a bit more.

Charlie is filled with instant regret, which is quickly replaced by utter surprise.

Yup, she should definitely have planned this. Or not come at all.

Because she hasn’t got a clue how to react to what’s in front of her.

She’s come here dreading a tipsy or even drunk Tom. And for a moment, he looks like that because he’s bedraggled and has a rather desperate look and his mouth is gaping wide open. And is that…is that puke or something on his beard–oh God, he’s bearded. Why? Since when? Why?!

For a moment, it feels as if there’s been years or at least months between their last–rather disastrous–meeting and now. But it’s barely been a month. And, idiot that she is, she’s missed Evie. And thought about Evie’s father more than she would ever care to admit out loud, to anyone (least of all to herself).

She swears to god, if Tom is anywhere near inebriated, she’ll sock him in the face and march away, surprise be damned and helpfulness be damned as well.

There’s been talk at the hospital that Mr. Hiddleston is trying to get his act together.

Not that she’s listened intently for gossip about him. Nope, not at all.

Funnily, it’s Tom who finds his ability for speech first, while Charlie is still busy staring from dirty father to dirty daughter, registering dimly that he’s scooped the girl up under one arm and that Evie is straining to shake her hand.

“What in the world are  _you_ doing here, Charlie?”

Well. Not drunk then. Too articulate for that.

Charlie takes a closer look, remembering to snap her own gaping mouth shut even if she has no idea how to answer.

That isn’t vomit, is it?

“What…?!” She uses her free hand to motion vaguely towards his state of affairs, realizing she’s the one sounding a bit drunk and dumb right now.

What is she doing here after all? And what’s the matter with those weird hand movements? And could his daughter please stop acting as if the doctor lady is the saviour and she’s been held captive by her own father?

“What?” is what Tom shoots out because he can’t make sense of anything right now. It’s been a little more than a month since he’s last seen her, and he doesn’t need a reminder.

“You’re dirty,” the woman in front of him blurts out and his eyes widen at the same time as she blushes and his daughter starts giggling.

“I’m… excuse me?” He’s what now? Oh. Oh, shit, he is. Before he can run a hand through his beard, Evie jumps in to help him.

“That was me!”

Charlie looks mortified and Tom is conflicted about finding out what she wants and explaining the situation. Explaining first, questions later is the way to go, he decides a moment later.

“She doesn’t like cocoa puffs apparently. Seems to be a new development since she’s loved them two days ago.” He refrains from rolling his eyes.

“I want fruit loops!” Evie - ever so helpful - chimes in.

“I’m… sorry?” Well, that’s nice of her but not really helpful.

“How can we help you, Charlie?”

That seems to shake the doctor a little bit. She’s a strange one, isn’t she? But at least she seems to slowly get her act together. Not that Tom would know anything about that.

“I have a surprise for you actually.”

Torn between wanting to kick herself a hundred miles into hell and covering up her strange behaviour, Charlie searches for words.

But apparently, Evie isn’t very patient today and doesn’t even let her talk.

“A surpriiiiise! Oh, oh, oh, I wanna see!”

Tom looks even more confused than before, but automatically shifts into parent mode–something she sees for the first time as her earlier encounters with him were less than ideal.

“Evie, I know you’re excited about surprises, but you need to give Doctor Charlie a bit of time to breathe. And remember to say please.”

With an enormous pout, Evie gives a little huff and a big wiggle in his hold.

“I wanna see,  _please_. Now.”

The adults exchange a glance, and Charlie actually has to supress a grin when Tom rolls his eyes heavenwards.

Part of her wishes she could snap a picture of him, just like this, with soggy cereal in his beard, a wriggly child under one arm, and a smile of totally parental exasperation tugging at his lips.

Huh, where did that urge come from? Why the hell should she want to snap any pic of Tom’s and keep it, much less one like this?

After another wiggle and another roll of his eyes, Tom carefully lets Evie down, but holds on to her shoulders before she can storm forwards.

Good, Charlie thinks to herself, because the surprise must be handled with care. She doesn’t even know if she’s doing the right thing. But after caring for them for three weeks and her talk with Evie at the hospital, she wanted to do something for the little girl. She more than deserves this.

“So, Evie. You have to be very careful, okay?”

Quite aware that she’s still at the front door - really, who could blame Tom, it’s not like they have a date - Charlie lowers herself and sets the box down.

Evie nods gravely and Charlie decides to ignore Tom’s raised brows for the moment. He can yell at her later.

“You want to see what’s in there?”

Evie looks on with a mix of “I have to pee” and “don’t let it bite me” on her face, but stares at the box in awe.

So, Charlie takes off the top of the box and scoops up the little kitten inside. She’s got one at home as well, his sister presumably. They were found and brought to the hospital and the kind hearted person she is, Charlie couldn’t leave them alone. Her flat is not made for two kitties, though.

“This is Boots,” she explains softly, holding the little cat with his black fur, but white little paws.

Evie’s eyes are wide with wonder and excitement. “It’s a kitten!” she squeals.

Charlie looks up from the pet in her hands and from Evie to meet eyes with Tom.

Oops. Well, maybe she should have asked him first, but in her defence, he wasn’t the most responsible and caring father that last time.

* * *

What in the world?!

“That’s…a kitten!” he blurts out a moment after his daughter’s high-pitched shout.

Yeah, very perceptive, Thomas.

Both women ignore him, too busy staring at the wee fuzzy thing as if it’s the cure for cancer or world hunger, at least.

“Is it for me?” Evie squeals, as if she wasn’t a living, breathing temper tantrum just a minute ago.

Wait a minute, wait a minute!

“If you think you can take good care of him, yes,” is Charlie’s response.

Why isn’t she meeting his eye or looking up to see him frantically shake his head? And why the ever-loving fuck would she turn up here with a furry little intruder currently with its hairs all sticking up and its teeny ears moving?

“We are NOT getting a kitten!” It’s supposed to be an authoritative bark of a command but it comes out rather terrified and loud.

Again, he’s summarily ignored.

The next thing he knows, Evie is on her knees on the doorstep, cooing and petting the black kitten that looks as confused as Tom feels, Charlie looking on with a huge smile that he really shouldn’t notice.

And then his daughter grabs at the little thing and plants herself on her butt, cradling the kitten.

She swivels around to look at Tom, a pout already forming on her face. “Can I have a kitten, daddy?!” Well. At least, she’s asking.

Tom looks at his daughter with that little feline in her arms, hanging on for dear life, as Evie doesn’t quite know how to hold it yet.

He’s about to tell her no, or at least shake his head as Charlie interrupts. Excuse you?!

“First of all, you need to hold him correctly, Evie. Look.” Tom watches on as the doctor’s elegant hands pat Evie’s, supporting the kitten’s butt, heaving it up a little. The feline looks quite happy to not be close to choking anymore. “You need to support its behind as well, see?”

Evie giggles, but holds on. Seems like she’s not even waiting for his answer anymore either.

“Excuse me?!” he exclaims. “But I’m the grown up in this house. And we don’t get a kitten. We don’t have time for the kitten. We are NOT keeping it.” Maybe she’ll listen when he repeats it often enough. “No. Kitten.”

His daughter’s round, big eyes stare at him, slowly watering. No. No, no, no. She’s not going to… She starts crying. Big tears, big sobs that shake the cat, her face slowly turning red. Tom really wants to strangle Charlie right about now.

“Maybe we’ll take things inside?” the woman in question suggests.

Tom wants to protest. He wasn’t kidding before. The house is a mess even for his standards which aren’t very high.

But Evie nods as Charlie helps her stand up safely and turns her around to walk past her daddy into the house.

“I’m so,” Charlie starts and Tom holds up a finger that makes her stop.

“Don’t,” he growls out before turning and following the little girl and her seemingly new best friend into the house.

* * *

Charlie swallows.

Well.

That wasn’t so bad. But not so good either.

Technically, nobody has invited her into the house, though she’s the one who’s suggested taking things inside.

With a sigh, she walks in anyway, closing the door behind her, then grimacing, opening it again and retrieving the box, which didn’t just hold the kitten but also a few essentials (including its favourite blankie).

“You are NOT keeping Shoes or Boots or whatever he is called,” she can hear Tom from a bit away.

He doesn’t sound so squeaky anymore but still more panicky than authoritative.

Evie’s wails get louder, which prompts the kitten to let out one mighty “meeeeeeow”. That, in turn, makes Evie stop crying mid-wail.

“Did you hear that? He’s talking to me! He already loves me!”

Tom’s exasperated “oh for god’s sake” is muffled by him storming back to where Charlie is still standing close to the door. He plants himself firmly in her way, arms folded, forehead creased.

“Why?”

It’s only the one word, but it’s oh-so loaded.

Charlie swallows again. Here goes nothing…

Does she play it cool or does she get defensive? Which way to go…

Whatever she does though, Charlie should not look at the way the material of Tom’s sweater stretches over his biceps or how the thin material doesn’t manage to hide the muscles beneath.

Tom is still staring at her expectantly so Charlie starts talking. With a quite clever, “Why what?” she crosses her own arms.

He doesn’t seem to get the humour of the situation. Pf.

“Why  _what_? Why - the fuck - what?! Can you please explain to me why you appear here at 11 in the morning with a fucking kitten under your arm, offering it to my daughter? Without asking me? Excuse me, but you’re not the parent in this situation - or in any situation for that matter - as far as I know.”

He seem to try keeping his voice down but it’s working only a little. Charlie tries not to stare at him.

Okay. He wants to know why? She’ll give him his reason why. And he won’t like it.

“Because animals help whenever everything else doesn’t seem to.”

He splutters. It’s almost comical how he tries to understand and at the same time refuses to understand.

“I… what? What do you mean? Help… But…” He’s quieter in the end. Ah. So he does get it.

“She’s sad, Tom. I’m sure you know that. And you’re sad as well. And - I know it’s not my place to say, but after all I was the one driving your drunk ass home - you’re not coping that great.”

He blinks at her. Blinks and stares and then blinks some more. “How dare you…,” he starts. “How dare you tell me how my daughter feels and how I’m handling this?”

Just as Charlie wants to open her mouth to say something, anything, he continues, this time looking rather exasperated and so comically panicky that Charlie has to suppress a grin, again.

“And why would you think bringing a kitten - a kitten! - into my house would help me dealing with my daughter? Now I have two tiny beings not listening to me!”

Evie chooses that exact moment to shout, “I love my new kitten. Thanks sooooooo much, Doctor Charlie!”

Tom narrows his eyes at the smug grin Charlie tries to hide quickly behind a hand.

Well, at least his daughter has miraculously remembered her manners. Still…

“It…he is NOT yours. We can’t have a kitten, Evie.”

“Why not???”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Yes, why not?” echoes this infuriating woman who seems to get a kick out of meddling in his life. As if it hasn’t been meddled in enough already!

How dare she turn up like a fucking Santa and drop this bomb on him?

“There are a million reasons why not,” he says loud enough for both to hear.

“What’s a mil-yan?”

With a huge sigh, Tom decides he needs to somehow become the master of this mess.

“Well, do come in and make yourself right at home, seeing as you’ve brought us a present and all,” he grumbles at Charlie. “I need something to drink so I can think clearly.”

When her eyebrows shoot all the way up into her hair, he adds hastily, “Coffee. I was speaking about coffee, for heaven’s sake. Contrary to what everyone seems to think, I’m not perpetually drunk.”

Now there’s pity written all over her–stupidly beautiful–face. He hates that even more and turns abruptly to stride into the kitchen.

Time to wash the cereal off, guzzle coffee and be a man, Hiddleston.

* * *

Tom storms away from her, and all Charlie can do is to follow. She flinches a bit as she sees the wall she’s been pressed against during her last - let’s call it - visit.

Coming into the kitchen, Charlie tries not to let her mouth drop. She’s by no means an overly neat person when she’s not in the hospital. After 18 hours of helping children as well as seeing all kinds of injuries and blood, she’s not often in the mood - or too tired - to wash the dishes or fold up the laundry. But damn, this kitchen looks like a bomb’s been dropped.

There is a mess, it’s a little lake really, of milk on the table, probably from when Evie had her little tantrum. There are dishes on top of what Charlie assumes to be the dish washer and also in the sink.

Crayons and paper lie on the table and the vacuum cleaner is put in a corner ready for use. Charlie tries not to let her eyes wander too much and concentrates on Evie.

She’s sitting on her chair, Boots still protectively cradled to her chest as if Tom is going to rip him away in an instant.

Tom, who is currently cleaning his face with a towel and standing in front of the coffee machine. Tom, who’s also probably not raised a macho who’s never had to do cleaning at home but who’s obviously not used to live in the same place long enough to leave it dirty, and who’s had a woman at his side who did the chores more often than him.

He turns around, seemingly sensing Charlie’s presence, or simply hearing her shoes on the floor. “Would you like a coffee too?”

She can see him gritting his teeth as he remembers his manners but doesn’t want to.

“A coffee would be great, thank you.”

“Doctor Charlie?” She looks at Evie hearing the question and decides to sit down on the chair next to the little girl.

“Yes, Evie?”

“Can Boots sleep in my room?”

Charlie’s answer - and her snort - is drowned out by Tom’s “He’s not staying for fu…dge’s sake!”

That prompts another wail from the girl and Charlie to roll her eyes.

Tom watches with rising despair as his daughter cries even harder this time.

Dear God, why? Hasn’t he been a good person for most of his life? Why does he get thrown all those curveballs then? And what about little Evie? How is it fair that she’s lost her mother so young?

Guilt is a familiar kick to the stomach. Not guilt over Emily’s death–though he’s been through weeks of “I should’ve gone instead of her / should’ve been there with her / should have done  _something"_ –but over failing his child so obviously these days.

He gulps the too hot coffee down in one go, the burning in his throat nothing compared to the burning in his heart. He’s carefully setting a mug of coffee down in front of the insufferably meddlesome doc when Evie’s wails stop abruptly.

Now what?

Tom shoots a panicked glance in her direction, only to gape at the little black cat licking tears off his daughter’s face. Evie instantly goes from crying to a reverent “aaaaawwwwww”, and he can see that mushy, I’m-so-in-love look on Charlie’s face that women always get around puppies and kittens.

Great, it’s two against one apparently. He’ll never survive this.

Tom sits down at the table as well, wincing at the mess the spilled milk has made along with the dishes that are still on there. He’ll clean that up later.

Okay, so the panicked version didn’t work so well with his daughter. Not that it was a conscious decision to go that route. Maybe calm will help?

“Evie, can you listen to me for a minute?”

Evie opens one eye and looks at him, the insufferable kitten still licking at her cheeks and now meowing a little.

“I don’t want to be mean,” he starts, casting a quick look at Charlie who watches him and his daughter. “But we won’t have time to care for him. You’ll be in kindergarten and I’ll eventually will be working again.” Okay, maybe not so much, he’s got no idea when he’ll work again. “And then Boots will be all alone.”

“But you’re home aaaaaaaall the time, daddy,” Evie whines. Well. Thank you for that.

“I… I won’t always be there. Here. At home. And he’s too small to be alone. We couldn’t go out to buy fruit loops this afternoon for example.”

Evie scrunches up her face. The prospect of no cereal seems to help his case. Good.

“We also don’t have anything here for him. He needs to eat and drink and sleep,” Tom continues.

With wide eyes he registers movement next to him - Charlie bending down. Not that he should watch the curve her back and… butt makes as she does so.

“I’ve brought some things for him. He didn’t have more stuff at my place either.”

Evie’s eyes start to shine as Tom tries to mentally kick Charlie’s shin. He’s not a violent person but damn this doctor to hell. Why is she so keen on helping them anyway? Because she’s stitched up his daughter’s forehead once?

“That’s so cool, Doctor Charlie!” Evie’s eyes go even bigger. “Maybe you can help us make him bigger too!”

Well, no. Not happening.

* * *

But apparently, it IS happening.

Tom has no idea what’s gotten into these two, but they won’t listen to a word he’s saying. He’s inclined to grumble “women” and roll his eyes heavenwards, but he’s never been sexist–and he’s too busy with his arms elbow-deep in sudsy water.

It’s as if he’s snipped his fingers once and entered an alternate universe.

Or how else to explain that half an hour later, Evie is sitting in the living room, sharing Boots’s blanket and making hilariously funny, adorable faces at the wiggly wee thing as Charlie somehow teaches his daughter about kitten care while simultaneously dusting the furniture.

Oh yeah, and he’s washing a mountain of dishes, torn between cursing and sneaking incredulous glances through the open door at the surreal scene in the living room.

Emily used to love cats. And dogs. And rabbits. And horses. Well, basically all animals, minus roaches, hairy spiders, and sharks.

Tom swallows thickly as he remembers a conversation they had when Em was six months pregnant, about what would be the best age to get a family dog and introduce him or her to their little daughter. They even looked at endless photos of Labradors and Golden Retrievers and shaggy giants with kinds hearts whose breed names Tom can’t remember.

His eyes are itchy and runny.

“Bloody dishwashing liquid’s too strong,” he mutters to himself, knowing full well that he’s blinking back tears.

That’s the exact moment Charlie chooses to come back into the kitchen. Evie is comfortable on the blanket and Boots seems to be doing fine in her care for the moment.

Charlie’s dusted off every surface she could reach. And though she’s been kind of a pain in the arse today - yes, she knows that - she’s not going to mess with the books on the tables or the laundry or any other room than the living-room.

So, it’s drying the dishes now.

Charlie is a little shocked to see Tom’s eyes red-rimmed. Or him swallowing what looks like bricks, his throat is working so hard.

She stops for a moment but then takes a towel and starts working on the already washed dishes.

She should really not look at Tom’s arms and the rolled-up sleeves and should also not inhale the smell of coffee, faint deodorant and milk coming from him, along with something that seems to be simply Tom.

“You’re still here,” he almost croaks, but clears his throat a moment later.

Charlie just shrugs. She knows it’s strange as well. “Yeah, seems so.”

“Why? Honestly, why are you still here?”

“I wish I knew,” he hears Charlie say.

She’s not meeting his eyes after a quick glance, and drying a plate so studiously she’ll soon rub a hole in the porcelain.

Is it because she’s caught him close to a breakdown? Does it make her feel awkward? Well, as a pediatrician, she’s probably dealing with someone’s tears once an hour. So is she trying to give him some space and time to pick up what little dignity he’s left?

She  _is_ being rather kind to him, all in all. If you disregard the whole “I’ll just barge right in and dump some more responsibility on your shoulders” thing, that is.

“You really don’t know or you don’t want to tell me?” he insists, genuinely curious.

As he’s finished washing up, he dries his hands on a towel, noticing Charlie’s gaze flickering towards the movement before she attacks a now clean mug.

No answer.

“Charlie?” he prompts.

With a huff, she sets the mug down and meets his gaze, squaring up her pointy chin and looking almost adorable.

“Alright, alright, you bully, I’ll give you an answer.”

Tom has half a mind to tell her that she’s obviously the bully, but he holds his tongue and waits for more, realizing suddenly how weird it is to have a woman in his kitchen who isn’t his sister, his mother or a friend’s wife.

Charlie takes a deep breath.

“I like Evie. A lot. And I like you. Somehow. A bit. So that’s why.”

Tom can’t stop a smug grin from forming on his face. “Somehow? A bit?”

But he also can’t stop his heart to quicken its rhythm and a blush from spreading over his cheeks just as it’s happening with Charlie right now.

She clears her throat first. “Yes, but mostly Evie.”

That’s okay. That's more than okay in fact. Because yes, it’s been weird to have another woman in his kitchen. But having another woman tell you she kind of likes you? He knows nothing is ever going to happen, but having someone else than Em saying something like that… feels just wrong.

“So… we get a kitten because you like us?” he can’t help the slightly teasing voice.

“If you think I’ll take Boots back when you’re mean to me, you’re definitely wrong, Tom,” Charlie answers, a smug grin on her own face. “I’ll bring his sister along the next time.”

“Oh, please don’t.” It’s meant to be a joke, but even to his own ears Tom sounds slightly panicked. Again.

Charlie laughs, and for the first time today Tom enjoys her company. A bit.

“I like you a tiny little bit, you know? Mostly for liking Evie and for saving my ass,” he blurts. “But I still don’t know why it has to be a fucking kitten. Evie will only be sad if he leaves again.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Charlie mocks him. “As if this kitten will ever leave for the next decade.”

They stare at each other, still in a battle of wills. Tom’s just not sure he’ll win.

Charlie senses him opening up just a little, losing the grumpy edge and the cloud of woe and worry that always seems to dull his shine these adys. She can almost see the radiant man everyone fell in love with when the eactor made his international debut–but only almost.

It’s a teensy ray of hope, and she’s surprised by how fiercely she wants to cling to it.

“Tom, I know you think this is a disaster, but please give it a try.”

Charlie leans forward, pressing her advantage and feeling her stomach flutter when Tom automatically inhales, as if to catch her scent now that she’s closer.

Is the kitchen really so small?

“A kitten may seem like a lot of work–but that’s exactly what I think you two need.”

His brow rises high on his broad forehead. “Does my flat look like I don’t have enough work?”

Surprised at yet another tease, Charlie chuckles. She has the weirdest urge to hear Tom chuckle too, but he just keeps looking at her with that infuriating eyebrow quirked.

“Not that kind of work. You need something that keeps Evie occupied and gives her some emotional balance. She can bond with the kitten, cuddle with it, whisper all her sadness to it. Learning how to care for it will take her mind off the grief–at least a little, I hope. You’d be surprised by how soothing and reassuring the unconditional love of an animal can be." She leans closer still and whispers almost conspicuously, “You should try it some time as well.”

This time, Tom actively stops himself from inhaling her scent again. He hopes she didn’t realise the first time.

Again, he hasn’t had a woman that close to him - except this exact woman in front of him when he was drunk - since Emily’s dead.

Charlie smells different, he can’t really make out why and what’s different, but it is. And maybe that’s good.

“Try it myself, huh?” he asks, almost with a whisper.

“Yeah.” Charlie looks a little fidgety now. “I don’t think it’ll only help Evie.”

Damn that woman and her Samaritan streak. “Okay.” He’s still not moving, as if he’s captured by those green eyes that stare up at him.

Until she decidedly moves away and picks up the towel again along with another cup to dry. “I’ll do the dishes, you inspect the cat.”

“Ay, ma'am.” With a salute and the tiniest of smirks he leaves the kitchen, his heart almost melting at the sight of Evie and the… and Boots. Might as well call him by his name now.

With a sigh Tom sits down on the floor next to Evie. She immediately picks up Boots, who meows warmly, and settles on her daddy’s legs. He wraps his arms around her middle, as Evie leans against his chest.

“So, do you have fun with Boots?” Tom asks.

Evie nods with so much enthusiasm it almost makes Tom chuckle. “Yes. And I’m not allowed to give him my milk.”

“That’s right.”

“Daddy?” she mumbles next.

“Hm?”

“Do you think Boots’s mummy is gone too and that’s why he’s here? I think he misses her.”

Well, fuck.

Where’s Doctor (she should have been a shrink) Charlie when her plan goes south, huh? Isn’t the kitten supposed to take Evie’s mind off the loss?

What on earth should he say?

He buys some time by shifting and leaning his back against the wall, settling Evie and the kitten more securely on his lap.

“Perhaps his mother was a stray,” he begins and is interrupted by Evie.

“What a ‘sdray’, Daddy?”“

“A  _stray_  is an animal like a dog or cat that doesn’t have a home. It doesn’t live with humans but on the road and in the wild, often finding only a bit to eat. Some strays are unhealthy, others become wild or try to beg humans for some food.”

Evie half-turns to look up at him with big, soulful eyes–so much like her Mum’s that Tom can’t breathe for a moment.

“Why don’t we find homes for all the s-trays? They’re cold and hungry and it’s not fair. There are so many people and houses.”

Children’s logic. Why can’t the world be this easy?

Tom strokes his daughter’s arm reassuringly, and his fingers brush over a bit of cat too. Immediately, there’s purring, surprisingly loud for such a tiny creature. Almost automatically, Tom keeps stroking, the kitten’s fur fuzzily soft against his fingertips.

“Sadly, that’s not how the world works, sweetheart. Anyway, these stray cats sometimes can’t take care of their…babies because something happens to them.”

He thinks it’s best not to mention those heartless arseholes who throw out a cat’s or dog’s litter.

Evie nods seriously as the kitten purrs his little heart out. “So we’re Boots’s parents now? We’re his new home so he’s no s-tray?”

Well, damn it all. “Maybe we’ll find another family for…”

But Tom is interrupted by a tiny sob leaving his daughter and another purr from Boots. They’re all teaming up against him, huh?

Suddenly he not only sees tears on Evie’s face, accompanied by still heart melting little sobs, but also feels something cold and wet on his hands. Is that…

Yep. That little freaking infuriating kitten is indeed licking his finger while Tom’s still stroking the fur. This is so unfair.

“I think Boots likes us, Daddy,” Evie whispers. “Me more than you.”

This time a chuckle does leave him. Damn it, Evie’s heart is at least as big as Emily’s. “You think so?”

His daughter simply nods and strokes the kitten again.

“Do you like him as well?”

“I looooooove him.” She’s smiling so much that Tom doesn’t find it in his heart to really say no. “Can we please be his family and friends?”

* * *

Charlie is pretty sure that father and daughter have forgotten all about her presence, and that she can hear every word from where she stands frozen in the kitchen with a half-dried saucer in her hands.

She feels almost like an intruder, watching and listening like this–but she can’t help it. She’s drawn to them. And she tells herself Boots is her responsibility, so she has to pay attention. Yeah, right…

It’s nice to see Tom being a good father, though she suspects it isn’t easy for him. Alright, maybe she shouldn’t have dropped this bomb on him–but look at the smiles seeping through.

There’s always hope. She clings to that, even when her jobs makes her despair sometimes. Maybe the tiny kitten can at least teach these two hope.

With a fuzzy feeling in her heart (and yes, a smug grin on her face), Charlie watches as the kitten licks Tom’s finger and Evie unleashes the full force of her pleading face.

‘Please say yes’, she wills Tom silently.

As if he’s heard her thoughts, he suddenly lifts his head and stares across the room at her.

Oh, dear.

Doctor Charlie stares back at him. The hand in which she holds the saucer making a motion to him that shows Tom she absolutely listened in on the conversation he’s had with Evie.

Why is he so lost in her eyes? Honestly, that can’t be normal. Maybe it’s some sort of bonding you form when one person drags another drunk person along?

She mouths something that looks suspiciously like, “Say yes.”

Tom rolls his eyes. Boots is still licking his finger and Evie is still staring at him as if her future happiness depends on this decision entirely. Damn them all.

He sighs deeply. “I guess, Evie,” he starts and his adorable daughter already lets out a tiny squeal and starts fidgeting before he can go on. “Hey, are you listening to me?” Seeing her nod, Tom continues. “Good. We can go for a test run. If we can manage for the next two weeks and have enough time for Boots and he behaves, I guess we can keep him.”

His daughter’s nose scrunches up a bit. “How long is two weeks?” she asks, making Tom chuckle.

“You go to sleep for 14 times more. And then we’ll see, okay?”

It’s a good compromise, he thinks. Maybe two weeks from now, Evie will have lost interest in the kitten and won’t mind him gone. Or she’ll have him surprised - along with Boots - and it all won’t be as bad as he imagines it now.

“Yay!” Evie shouts, almost dropping the cat as she scrambles to her feet, now jumping in front of Tom’s legs. “Thank you, daddy, you’re the best!” Should he write that down or record it? Just to play it to her as soon as they’re out of cereal again or she needs a bath or put on her pyjamas?

“You’re welcome, princess.”

He looks up from his daughter to see Charlotte smiling at him with - is that? - pride. He allows himself a little wink at the woman, just as Evie spots her in the kitchen doorway as well.

“Doctor Charlie!” she screams. “I can keep Boots forever and ever!”

It makes the woman laugh out loud and Tom roll his eyes. Of course, Evie forgets about the two weeks plan.

“That’s awesome,” he hears Charlie say. “Run over and give me a high five, and then let me explain how little Boots will go to the toilet.”

Oh, Jesus. He’s forgotten all about that. Litter box! And probably peeing accidents and nice little surprises on rugs until the tiny devil has learned his toilet manners.

With a defeated groan, Tom buries his face in his hands. He’s going to spend the rest of his life cleaning. Who needs an acting career when you’ve got a child and a kitten around?

But there are worse things. Like drowning in guilt and sorrow. Or having nobody and nothing to care about and take care of.

Tom sighs, wondering why beneath all the shock and reluctant acceptance, he feels the urge to smile, say ‘fuck it’ and go with the flow.

He feels tiny claws dig into his skin through the jeans.

Oh, right. Evie has dumped Boots in his lap before running to join Charlie in the kitchen.

“Looks like it’s only you and me now, buddy,” he mumbles to the cat, not bothering to look up.

Has he just called the kitten ‘buddy’?

There’s an oddly eloquent “mew” that seems to echo all his sentiments, and the claws dig in a little harder as he feels the kitten move. It climbs up his arm and settles on his shoulder. The wee, warm, fluffy body curls up against his neck, purring like a motor.

Great. Now he’ll have to stay like this forever so he won’t disturb the little one.

That’s the exact picture presenting itself to Charlie when she enters the living-room with little Evie five minutes later.

Tom, leaning against the wall, trying to peak to his left without disturbing the kitten that has itself attached to Tom’s neck.

Charlie can barely hold in the sigh that wants to escape her.

“Boots is in love with you!” Evie whisper-shouts and darts forward to inspect what’s happening there. Charlie simply smiles her smug smile when Tom looks at them with a tiny glare.

“You know, you can pick him up, right?”

“I know, Charlie, but,” Tom stops for a moment, “but he feels comfortable there.”

Charlie tilts her head. Who would have thought? Okay, that’s a lie, she’s thought so or else, she wouldn’t have brought the wee kitten over. And she was right.

Evie ignores the “he feels comfortable”-part, sits next to her Daddy and takes Boots from his shoulder to basically drop him in her lap.

Okay, this feels oddly like home now, and Charlie really should go, right? She’s done her duty. Just as she’s about to say her goodbyes, Evie speaks up.

“You have to sit here too, Doctor Charlie. Boots misses you!”

Ugh. Well, who can resist those two tiny faces - one human, one animalistic - that stare up at her? And even Tom cracks a tiny smile.

“Yes, do stay, Miss Santa Claus,” Tom adds, which sends his daughter into a fit of giggles.

The kitten apparently thinks that giggling equals playing because he rolls over on his back to present his fat little belly and waves his white paws wildly around.

The two ladies in the room promptly go “aaawww”, and Tom harrumphs because he’s almost added his own cooing there. Yikes.

Charlie sits down on Evie’s other side, crossing her legs.

It draws Tom’s previously occupied attention to the fact that this is the first time he’s seen her in everyday-clothes outside the hospital. She’s wearing well-worn blue jeans with a plain leather belt and a snug but not too tight sweater in burgundy that reminds him oddly of one of his own million sweaters in two colours.

He’s staring, isn’t he? He totally shouldn’t.

When Charlie reaches out to rub a finger over the kitten’s belly and Boots happily tries to bite her, he averts his gaze.

This shouldn’t feel so cozy. Evie with her father on one side and a woman on her other side that should have been her mother and not a helpful almost-stranger.

Swallowing yet another bout of grief, he forces himself to speak.

“Didn’t you say you have Boots’s sibling at your place?”

Charlie surely imagines Tom’s gaze on her, right? On the other hand, why should she imagine something like that? It’s not like she  _wants_  his gaze. Not at all.

And she is correct, for when Charlie looks up from Boots - without interrupting the belly rub - Tom is looking straight ahead, eyes on his legs.

“I do, yes. Well, we think she’s his sibling, they were found together.”

“What is a sibling?” Evie asks before Charlie can speak on.

“It’s a brother or a sister,” Charlie explains to the eager girl, then focuses on Tom’s question again. “She’s a little smaller than him, also black and white, but a little more mixed. She’s called Blanket.”

“Blanket, really?”

“You’re not judging my name giving abilities, are you Mr Hiddleston?” Oh goodness. Was that too flirty? It’s not supposed to be flirty at all. Damn, it was flirty.

But Tom doesn’t seem to mind - or still is a great actor - because he simply looks at her. “I would never.”

“Can we have Blanket too?” Evie pipes up from between them. The look of horror on Tom’s face is hilarious and Charlie tries everything to hold the bubble of laughter in, but barely succeeds.

“Blanket stays with Doctor Charlie,” Tom shoots out, probably trying to squish any ideas in Charlie’s head.

Evie pouts. “Can we visit then?”

“Evie.” It’s the ‘parent-voice’ again. “You can’t just invite yourself over.”

Evie’s excessive eye roll makes Charlie giggle. “It’s okay,” she says and actually means it, which in itself is a little scary. “You can come over some time, if you want.”

Tom stares. He seems to be doing a lot of staring these days.

She doesn’t mean that, surely. At the most, she’s being polite because his daughter put pressure on her.

Why would she invite them over? It’s not like they’re friends. Or are they?

Lord help him, he’s become so bad at reading people, and he was once so proud of his people skills, which led to his impersonation skills.

For example, just a moment ago, it seemed like she was flirting with him. Psh, how ridiculous is that? He’s really losing it.

Tom could do with a friend, though. And she  _did_ bring the kitten over and all. Helped him clean. Friends do that, right? And they visit each other.

“Uhm. Thank you.” Very eloquent, goodness. “But you must be so busy all the time.”

Evie is pouting again. “If you don’t let me visit, you have to promise me that Doctor Charlie can visit us often. She can bring Boots’s silb…slibi…sister. And make sure that Boots doesn’t miss her.”

Heaven help him, won’t the surprises and challenges ever end?

Oh goodness, he’s so very uncomfortable with all of this, isn’t he?

Charlie can see it in the way he’s all fidgety and hear it when his once so reassuring voice goes all squeaky. And he’s finding excuses. Well, that’s what she gets for being overbearing and always trying to help no matter what.

Better not encourage anything then. “I’m sure we can figure something out, Evie. I’m sure Boots will love you so much, he surely won’t miss me or Blanket.” The fact that Charlie would surely miss Evie doesn’t matter really. Charlie always gets attached too easily.

“Well I will miss you.” Tom and Charlie stare at the girl at the same time. Damn. Damn it all, how can she ever say no to something like that.

“I’m sure, we’ll see each other then. If you want and of your daddy allows you to.”

Charlie does see the flash of panic on Tom’s face and can only imagine - but that pretty well - what goes through his head. Don’t get attached to another woman.

“I… yes. Yes, you can. But you need to ask Charlie first and you won’t be mad if she doesn’t have time. She works a lot, okay?”

Evie nods and smiles, and Charlie can’t help her own from forming.

Whew.

Tom feels as if he’s successfully completed a marathon or something. Scratch that, running is definitely easier than all this. It feels so new and overwhelming. Sometimes so right, sometimes so wrong.

Remembering what Charlie said about animals being able to soothe, Tom picks up Boots and dangles him close, making funny aces and clucking noises at him and ignoring the wide-eyed stares he gets from Evie and Charlie.

Perhaps everyone is right. Perhaps it really is time for new beginnings.

Boots meows gleefully–and then something wet hits Tom’s neck, narrowly missing his face, when the kitten decides this is the perfect time to pee.

Ew. Oh for fuck’s sake, ew. Tom holds back a string of curses that wants to leave his mouth. He’s been peed on. The last time that happened was when he’s changed Evie’s diapers and got too confident. Ew.

“Eeeeeeew,” is also what Evie has to say about it as she scrambles away from him and much to Tom’s surprise in Charlie’s lap.

Then he hears a giggle. Then a gasp, a huff, a snort and then Charlie full on guffaws. “Sorry,” she wheezes, holding on tight to Evie and hiding her face in his daughter’s neck. Charlie’s whole body is shaking, making Evie’s shake along and the little girl laugh as well. “Sorry,” she starts again, “but your face.”

“Are you…” She really is laughing at him, isn’t she? She brings this stupid cat in, lets him play with him, being all doe-eyed and then laughs at his pain. “You’re laughing at me. Stop laughing. And you too!” He points at Evie and her full belly laugh.

“Sorry.” Charlie stops for a moment, biting her lip. She has full lips actually. Nice, full lips. Yeah.

Tom’s thoughts are interrupted when she stops biting that lip and instead starts laughing again. “Sorry, Tom. But… you look like Boots really really offended you,” she gasps out between her laughter, obviously trying to take deep breaths.

“Boots peed but not in the litter, daddy.” Well, thank you captain obvious.

“Yes. I know.”

The two females are still laughing at him. Charlie has a wonderful laugh, all warm. And Evie’s laugh is beautiful anyway. Boots purrs and licks Tom’s finger again.

And then suddenly a laugh escapes Tom. It hasn’t happened for a long time, but he actually feels a bubble of giggles coming up. Before he can stop himself, he’s guffawing along.

 

 


End file.
